Short update.
There are a few things in life that I detest, one of those things that is at the top of my list, is filling in forms.
It’s so bad that a couple of years ago I bliksemmed off a ladder and broke my heel. I drove to the hospital and the lady at the front desk handed me the clipboard with the form to complete. I said to her that the hospital already has all my details and she can just look me up. HA, Sure, whatever!!
This unhelpful crone shook her head and told me sorry, something along the lines of its policy or something.
So I hobbled over to the seating area and began filling in the form. After making my third mistake on the form, I gave up and hobbled back the counter, returned the clipboard and told her I would rather die of pain than fill in the form.
Obviously she didn’t give a shit if I died or not so long as I was not doing it close to her work area.
That’s when I discovered the miracle drug that is voltaren, if you take enough of those the pain becomes bearable.
This “Form-Filling-in- Rebelliousness” thing that I have going has kept me out of hospitals, doctors rooms and any multitude of places that require this antiquated system.
Yes there will be people out there shaking their heads at me going “Just fill in the damn form!”
But, I know there are others out there that would agree with me. No need to own up, but you know who you are….
AAANNNNNNNNNNNYYYWWAAYYYYYYYYYYY
Lately with age, or living through the trauma of changing countries, I have become a bit lackadaisical in my standpoints and I actually don’t care if they can read my handwriting or not. The way I see it is, if they can’t read my address then they can’t send the bill. If I make a mistake I just scribble it out and keep going.
Sometimes it’s so bad that the form looks like a three year old was practicing drawing stick figures inside the little blocks. Anyway screw it! Enough about that.
I’m sure you will remember I mentioned in my earlier post about my back giving me agony.....
For reasons mentioned above I have never been to a chiropractor before.
A week and a half after the Trenticles tree debacle, I was finding it difficult to move, the pain was so intense that I eventually caved in and called a guy.
He took one look at the form, squinted, and proceeded to ask me for my details that he entered into his computer system. (this just re-enforces my point)
I answered questions about previous injuries like broken bones etc.. which he listened to attentively and nodded at all the correct intervals.
After I finished my list of multiple bike related offs, he paused, looked me up and down, and I think he was thinking that for someone that spent so much time picking up a bike, it should be illegal for me to own one.
Shortly after disrobing and bending this way and that, he gave me a lesson on the spine, the bones, how they work, with all the bits and bobs that are important he then took his pen and pointed to where my problem was.
I knew he was serous because he was using a ball point pen to do the pointing and he was holding the model of the spine like an angler standing next to a fish posing for a picture.
Obviously this chap was a professional so he just sighed internally, rubbed his hands together like a Turkish carpet dealer and said “Mate, this is going to take a couple sessions”.
The glint in his eye told me that this was not going to be a cheap exercise and I could hear the hidden $ bills in my pocket release themselves with gusto from my tightly closed wallet and waft slowly to the ground.
I had to read and sign a piece of paper that said if he cricks me and I cant walk it’s not his fault but the chances of that happening were “minimal”
I was only to happy to sign it as all I wanted was some relief from the pain.
He made me lay down on the table, and proceeded to give me a lekker massage. Not the kind of back rub you give the mussis when you are trying to get lucky, but more of a mano-al-mono back rub.
Just when i thought he was going to take me to my happy place he stopped and asked me to lay on my side. Without warning he suddenly manhandled me like a young waitress trying to manhandle a cork out of a wine bottle.
There was cracking and creaking in areas that places that I’m not sure are supposed to make those king of noises.
The relief was instantaneous, the ability to stand up straight in under a minute had been restored and I was happy to pay my new best friend.
I’m happy to report that I have my last session in two days’ time and should be able to resume my plans for revenge on mullet boy.
Topic: Australia.... The Island Saga (Read 44191 times)
